


Meant

by ardett



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Dubious Consent, Flashbacks, Gaslighting, Lack of Communication, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 06:59:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardett/pseuds/ardett
Summary: What Steve meant when he asked out Tony was very different than what Tony meant when he said yes.





	Meant

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Meant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18856132) by [Alidia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alidia/pseuds/Alidia)



> Mind the tags (for spoilery but proper trigger warnings, check end notes)
> 
> So I finally got around to writing a real Avengers fic

Steve and Tony have been dating for three months and it’s been lovely. Lovely. Never a word Tony used before but it sums up everything quite nicely: the quaint breakfast in bed Steve will bring him and the fresh roses on the counter and the sweet kisses Steve will press into his cheek.

Really, everything’s been just lovely, which has far surpassed Tony’s expectations from when he agreed to date Steve. Of course, he wouldn’t have said no, whether or not he expected things to be lovely or otherwise. He couldn’t say no. Saying no would have been bad for the team dynamic. Bad for team relations. It would have made things far too awkward between him and Steve.

Besides, Steve is the team leader. Fury named him team leader. It’s Steve’s designation on every official document Tony has been given (and on every record he’s hacked into). Tony’s part of a team now. It’s his job to meet the team leader’s requests. To keep the team leader happy.

It’s a little odd how out of his way Steve seems to go to make Tony happy too, but Tony appreciates the sentiment nonetheless.

It hit Tony a few days ago while he was munching on a scone Steve made. Things have been so lovely that Tony actually might be falling for Steve. It’s a pleasantly surprising revelation. 

It certainly makes things easier. For Tony, of course. It will make no difference to Steve, but it does make everything more enjoyable for Tony as he does his job. His job of being Iron Man. His job of meeting his team leader’s needs.

Well, that would be his job if things hadn’t been almost painfully lovely. They haven’t gone all the way yet. Tony doesn’t mind waiting. He’s never minded waiting. He’s just not sure why Steve asked to court him so soon if he wasn’t in the mood. And for months! Surely Steve could have just asked Tony out when he felt ready to go for it, instead of being forced to make Tony breakfast and buy him roses. Tony would have said yes with or without the three month waiting period. He would have had to say yes.

But the three months have been nice. This last month, Tony has even taken some of the initiative himself. Sure, Tony’s bought Steve a new car and other shiny things, but Tony’s always showered his lovers in gifts. But he can’t remember the last time he kissed a lover goodbye when they left in the morning or he made their coffee with his. Those are things he does with Steve now.

The first time they have sex is, by Tony’s standards, a bit over the top. He thinks Steve is trying to impress him, with the fancy dinner and bottle of champagne at home. Steve’s so polite. Honestly, Tony stopped counting how many times Steve asked if this was okay, if that was okay, if something was okay. The answer is always yes. The answer always will be yes.

Tony’s done it in cramped offices and in empty conference rooms and in leather and chains. This is a comparatively wonderful set up, on a bed, in the comfort of his own home, no board members watching. Steve is so nice throughout the whole thing, calling Tony beautiful and gorgeous and good, so good. Not to mention the actual sex itself is pretty fantastic.

As he finishes, Steve murmurs into Tony’s mouth, “I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too,” Tony repeats back. He’s startled to realize he might mean it, eventually. He means to go back to sleep in his own bed but Steve drags him back to share his. (They start sharing the bed all the time after that.)

Overall, it’s a very agreeable and productive night.

 

They have sex a couple more times. (They have less sex than Tony expects and they have a lot more of other things, like dates and ice cream and hand holding. Which is fine. Everything’s fine with Tony. Whatever Steve prefers.) Things are lovely. Steve is happy. The team is working well together.

Yes, Tony thinks. This isn’t nearly as tiring as his first relationship. He could maintain this for a long time.

 

The first time it interferes with his work, Tony almost ruins it.

 

Tony’s workshop is technically in lockdown when Steve comes in. See, the workshop is never really on lockdown for the team leader. It’s upset Steve in the past when Tony didn’t answer him or anybody else trying to get in contact with him. And Tony’s trying to make Steve happy. So now the workshop automatically opens to Steve. Steve isn’t even notified if he’s breaking lockdown. Probably for the best that way.

The one problem is that Tony is still in lockdown mode, his pinpoint focus fixed the new gauntlet model he’s working on.

He almost startles badly when Steve kisses down his neck and whispers, “Hey, sweetheart.” As it is, he fumbles with the screwdriver he’s using and leaves a scratch in the paint.

Tony gives an indistinct hum and doesn’t look up. He squints at the screw that has to come out. Or is it the other screw?

Steve’s hands come to rest on Tony’s waist. “Want to join me in the bedroom? It’s our first day off in a while.”

“Not now, Steve, I’m busy. I don’t--” Tony mutters, about to shrug Steve off, when he freezes. Realizes what he was about to do. And immediately reverses direction.

He leans back, baring his neck and splaying his legs. He tries to make everything about his body suggestive as he kisses Steve full on the lips and purrs, “How could I say no?”

He stands to stand before realizing Steve isn’t following his lead. “Steve?” Tony asks. “What’s the hang up, hot stuff?”

Steve’s brow is furrowed. Confused. “Just… are you sure? Because it sounded like a second ago you didn’t want to. It’s fine if you’re busy, you know.”

“Steve, come on, don’t be silly. I would never say no to an offer like this.” Tony grabs Steve’s hand, pulling him in for another kiss. “Besides, I want what you want, baby.” He grinds up as he says it. It’s easy to get Steve to fall into bed after that.

 

Steve leaves early the next day for his morning run. Tony watches Steve leave the tower, sees the tiny blip of him jogging towards Central Park. Then Tony lets himself feel the panic.

He slides to the ground, hands clutching at his own sides, eyes squeezed shut. He can feel the shudder in his chest. The way his breaths run ragged.

What was he  _ thinking? _ Him, almost refusing sex? He was just so distracted, he didn’t mean-- he didn’t mean to-- Who on Earth did he think he was, the team leader? What was he doing that was so important that it came before the team leader’s needs? He wouldn’t have-- he would never-- he didn’t mean--

 

_ “Did you think I was asking permission? You think it’s up to you, Tony? Did you think you get to decide when you service me?” A hand is in his hair, pulling tight, pulling him away from his desk and off his chair and onto his knees, and it hurts, it hurts. “That’s not your real job, boy. Your job is to please me, whenever I choose to have you and however I choose to have you. So what do you want to say to me?” _

_ “Yes, please.” The hand tightens and Tony gasps. “Yes, please, anything you want. I want anything you want, whenever you want it.” _

_ “Whenever I want it who?” _

_ “Whenever you want it, sir.” And Tony remembers that lesson after he spends the following two hours screaming it. _

_ He never refuses his lover again, except when-- _

 

He almost refused Steve. He did, didn’t he? He let the word  _ no _ slip past his lips and--

 

_ “You don’t get to say no, Tony. Not unless I say you can. And even then, we both know you don’t mean it. Because you want what I want, isn’t that right?” _

 

But he tried to fix it as fast as he could. He tried-- he tried to make sure Steve knew he wanted it, he wanted what Steve wanted. He reassured Steve that he was ready, that he was willing. Wasn’t Steve reassured? Didn’t Steve believe him? Hasn’t he gotten better at making it believable?

 

_ “Come now, Tony. You should know never to put on such a disappointing performance. Did you think you’d make me out to be the fool?” The slap is expected but it still stings viciously. Tony stays down when he falls. “No one wants an unhappy leader, Tony. No one else is whining about their responsibilities. They don’t want to hear you. No one wants to hear your sniveling. They expect you to get your job done. And what’s your job, boy?” _

_ “To keep you happy, sir,” Tony breathes, staring at the floorboards. He tastes blood in his mouth. _

_ His lover steps on his outstretched hand and Tony muffles a scream. The foot lifts as his lover smirks, “Make me believe it.” _

_ Tony swallows the blood. He lowers his voice to a sultry whisper, almost a moan, spreads his knees, and says, “I want to make you happy, sir,” as he reaches for his lover’s belt. _

 

Steve left happy. Tony made his leader happy. Everything should be okay. Everything is okay. He didn’t inconvenience Steve. He did what Steve wanted. He did. Everyone expects him to be responsible and he was. He was. Wasn’t he? He was. He was.

 

Steve smiles at Tony when he comes back inside an hour later. By then, Tony has cleaned up and planned for three different ways to placate his lover if he’s angry. But Steve smiles when he comes inside and offers to make Tony breakfast. Steve is already happy.

So Tony says yes of course he’d love some breakfast sweetheart and goes to make a cup of coffee when his hands finally stop shaking.

 

Tony was wrong. Steve wasn’t happy with him. Steve noticed his slip-up. Tony didn’t reassure him at all and he doesn’t trust Tony to make him happy, not anymore.

Why didn’t Steve say anything? Why didn’t Steve just punish him that night? Tony could have taken it. Tony would have thought Steve would at least give him another chance, a second try, before deciding Tony couldn’t do the job.

Now, all Tony can do is watch with a sinking weight in his stomach as Steve leads a tipsy Clint to his bedroom.

“I’m just gonna put him to bed,” Steve says, an arm hooked around Clint’s waist. Clint giggles against Steve’s chest and Tony feels sick.

“His room’s only a few floors away. Jarvis wouldn’t let him pass out on the floor,” Tony tries to joke.

“Too far,” Clint whines, sagging further into Steve.

“You heard the man.” Steve smiles easily at Clint. “Come on, big guy, let’s go.”

Tony open his mouth as they begin to walk off but he can’t think of any other reason to stop them. 

He doesn’t want that for Clint. Clint already gives enough to this team. Now he’ll have to do Tony’s job too? And doesn’t Steve see that Clint is still covered in bruises from their last mission?

Tony and Steve haven’t done anything painful yet, nothing that would leave marks, but maybe Steve is planning on taking out his disappointment in Tony on Clint. No, Steve wouldn’t be that cruel. Would he? It’s his right as team leader, Tony knows that, but Steve wouldn’t use Clint just to get back at Tony. It was one mistake and Steve’s not like--

“Don’t worry, Tony.”

Tony rips his eyes away from the long-empty hallway. “What?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “I said don’t worry. Steve’s a good guy.”

Tony blinks. “I know. Of course he is.”

“He wouldn’t do that to you.” Natasha sips from her wine glass.

Tony glances once more to the hallway before nodding sharply. “Right. I know.” He grabs his own glass and takes a bitter swig. “He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that.” His fingers tap on the couch.

It takes Steve a long time to come back. When he does, Tony scans for any physical tells, mused hair or love bites or scratches on his back, but there’s nothing. Still, he has a hard time focusing on the rest of the movie and he’s grateful when Natasha leaves.

 

“I should have asked you before but do you mind if I stay in your room tonight, Tony? With Clint in my bed and all,” Steve asks.

Relief floods through Tony. This is Steve giving him a second chance.

“I always want you in my bed, handsome,” he winks. Steve laughs.

They both get ready for bed. Steve is sitting on the edge of the comforter when Tony approaches him.

“Hey,” Tony murmurs. He kisses Steve. Steve leans up into him and Tony smiles before sliding down to his knees. He reaches for Steve’s waistband, checking to see if this is what Steve wants. Steve nods. Tony keeps going, keeps going until Steve is moaning and coming down Tony’s throat.

Tony pulls off and swallows. Steve groans, muttering, “You’re too perfect, Tony. Do you want me to…?”

“No, no, I’m good, but thanks baby.” Tony smiles, crawling into bed besides Steve. He goes for it. “You know I’d do anything to make you happy. You don’t have to go to anyone else, right? I’m enough for you?”

“Of course you are, Tony.” Steve rolls to face him and cradles his face. “Of course you are. Did I… Did I do something to make you think otherwise?”

Tony presses a kiss to Steve’s palm. “Okay. You forgive me then?”

“Forgive you?” Steve’s brow creases. “Forgive you for what?”

Tony doesn’t really want to say it. “I dunno. Do you just forgive me?”

Steve looks like he wants to protest but Tony nuzzles into his chest and he relents. “Course I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you.” He wraps his arms around Tony and Tony sighs.

“Thank you.”

Sleep takes Tony under.

 

Tony wakes up to the sound of socked footsteps. Steve is still asleep besides him. It’s easy to figure out who’s making their way to the kitchen. Tony pries himself out of Steve’s arms and goes to follow Clint.

When he enters the kitchen, he’s greeted by Clint slumped over the counter top, the glass of water in his hand already half-empty.

“Morning, sunshine,” Tony smirks as he reaches into the cabinet for some Advil. He shakes out a couple of pills and hands them to Clint.

“Ugh. God bless your soul, honestly, man.” Clint downs the pills. “Seriously, never let me drink again. I mean it.”

“Mmhm, sure, princess. Is that just the hangover talking?” Tony keeps his voice light as he sits on the other side of the kitchen island.

“What else would it be? The headache is bad enough.”

Tony can’t help the way he leans forward a little bit. “Well… Steve didn’t go too hard on you last night, did he?”

“When he-- What?” Clint shakes his head a bit, then groans, pressing the heel of his palm against his temple. “When he put me to bed?”

“Yes, yes, exactly.” Tony’s all too glad to gloss over the details and clearly Clint is too.

“Yeah? I mean, no, he didn’t-- Sorry, what? What are we talking about? He literally just--” Clint pauses and his gaze seems to sharpen. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Hm?” Tony meets Clint’s eyes for only a second. “Like what?”

“Like you’re looking for something.” Tony’s eyes must flicker down to Clint’s neck because he is looking, looking for hickies or handprints or the chafe of a leather collar. Clint scoffs. “Come on, man. Are you serious?” 

Tony stiffens. “Am I serious? Of course I’m serious. I’m trying to look out for you,” he hisses over the table

“Oh,  _ oh, _ is that what they call it now?” Clint drawls, scornful.

“Why are you being this way? For once I’m actually--”

“Acting like you care? Actually caring? You’re unbelievable. He’s Captain America and you’re jealous--”

“Jealous? I’m not, I’m not jealous.” Tony means for the words to come out defensive but they fall flat. “Why would I be jealous?” The question comes out quiet and Clint gives him an odd look before leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Because you think your boyfriend cheated on you with me. That’s what you think happened, right?”

Tony goes to protest because cheating isn’t the right word for it and why would that make him jealous, that’s not his job, but then… “Cheated, yes, that’s what I think happened,” he parrots. Under the table, his nails dig into his kneecap.

Clint just watches him for a minute, head tilted. It’s a familiar gesture, like when Clint is gazing down his arrow at a target. “Nothing happened,” he finally says. “I promise nothing happened.”

“Great.” Tony claps his hands together. “So glad we had this talk. I’m just going to… I’m going…”

“Make yourself some coffee?” Clint suggests. “Like you usually do?”

Tony nods even though he doesn’t really think he’s up for making coffee at the moment but now he has to because Clint’s right, he does have coffee every morning and to do otherwise would be to put on a disappointing performance. He gets up to make the coffee and concentrates very hard on making sure he doesn’t fumble any of the ingredients.

Clint frowns at him the whole time.

 

Other than his one almost slip-up, Tony would like to say he’s been very responsible doing his job. Proactive, even. Steve seems to like that, when Tony initiates. It feels presumptuous for Tony to tell Steve when he’s ready, but Steve will always kiss back eagerly. So every couple of days, Tony makes sure to bring Steve to his bedroom. Easy.

No, Tony isn’t planning on making the same mistake again. He has JARVIS let him know if Steve is heading his way and Tony is always ready. It’s a little time consuming, sure, but it’s worth it. 

Tony’s pretty sure it’s what has kept Steve from mentioning that Tony has subtly been keeping Clint away from him. Getting other people to walk Clint to medical. Strategic battle plans with Hawkeye and Captain America on different sides of the field. Less team movie nights, more romantic nights spent in with just the two of them.

Tony’s not complaining. He’s not whining or sniveling or whatever else his lover used to call it. But even as he tries to protect Clint (from what? from Steve? Steve hasn’t-- but his lover used to--), he wonders why he’s always the one picked out for this job. Tony hasn’t ever really applied for a job, inheriting Stark Industries from his father, so he can’t be sure. He knows his R&D department picks applications out of a pile and hires someone. No one has ever said no. Tony assumes they could say no. Technically, he could say no too. He could say no when the leader signaled him out. But he's a team player. His team is relying on him. This is his job. Making the team leader happy.

But other people submit applications, don't they? For jobs they want? Tony has never really wanted this job. He remembers distinctly not wanting it, before. Right now it's not so bad but he already accepted. If it does get bad, it's too late to back out. This is a responsibility. An obligation. A relationship.

It’s impossible to ask his old lover why, why him? And Steve, well, Tony doesn’t really want to ask him. Tony doesn’t want to know if it’s the way he looks, or the way he acts, or if they can just tell he’s gagging for it. Tony doesn’t know how to look like he doesn’t want it. He’s tried. He’s been trying. But Steve still chose him and Tony said yes and Tony doesn’t want to ask Steve why because Steve says he likes him for who he is, loves him for who he is, and Tony doesn’t want to hear the truth if that’s the lie.

 

Wednesdays are the days they’ve all agreed to have team lunch. It’s a nice little thing, where they alternate who cooks and joke about monsters they’ve killed. Today it’s Tony’s turn. He made an Italian dish his mother use to cook and he made sure Clint wasn’t sitting next to Steve. He feels bad about it because Steve and Clint are friends but Tony… Tony’s prone to making mistakes and he’s just trying to mitigate consequences, right? Right.

The meal is a big one, it has to be to feed the Avengers, so a few people usually pitch in for the clean up if they can. Steve has to run today but he doesn’t leave without giving Tony a chaste kiss and calling, “Love you!” on his way out.

Tony puts on his best beaming smile and responds, “Love you too.” He waves Steve out the door. 

It ends up being only Natasha to help Tony with the clean up. Maybe Tony should have expected the fallout. But he didn’t.

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Natasha states as Tony hands her a dish to dry.

“Whoa, call the cops. Something Black Widow doesn’t understand? Sure you’re not an imposter?” Tony jokes. The suds make his hands slippery.

“Funny.” When Tony glances over, Natasha’s face is entirely blank. “Clint knows you’re keeping him and Steve apart. He thinks it’s a jealousy thing. Goes with your character, doesn’t it?”

Tony practically throws the next dish at Natasha. His teeth grind. “Sounds pretty straight forward. What’s so confusing about that?”

“The confusing part,” Natasha’s manicured nails scrape against porcelain, “is that when you stand between them, you face Steve.”

Tony swallows. “I’m sorry?”

“You leave your back exposed to Clint. Vulnerable to him. That’s a protective measure, not a defensive one.”

Tony’s forehead wrinkles for a second before smoothing out. “Nat, come on, you have to know that’s not--”

“The confusing part,” she speaks over him, “is that you don’t mean it when you say you love him.”

A plate slips out of Tony’s grip and cracks in the sink. Tony whips around. “I love Steve.”

Natasha looks him dead in the eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Tony’s hands clench. For once he’s telling the truth and Natasha doesn’t believe him, after everything he does and everything he’s given up and all the times he’s said yes, yes, yes--

His voice drops. “I love him as much as I’ve loved any of my old--” leaders “lovers.”

“That, I believe.” Natasha turns back to her dishes. “Doesn’t mean you love him though.”

Tony thinks he already knew that. He still mulls over it a long time after Natasha is gone.

 

“Mr. Rodgers coming this way, sir,” JARVIS intones.

Tony flicks off his tablet, grabs a pencil to look like he’s still doing something (pretending, his lover wanted him to be good at pretending, but Natasha said he’s not--), and immediately looks up as soon as Steve walks into the room.

“Hey, baby,” Tony whispers, voice raspy and low.

“Hey,” Steve smiles. He swoops down for a kiss, his hand resting on the back of Tony’s neck. “So I was wondering…” His thumb swipes over a knob of spine. Tony suppresses a shiver, the good kind. “Do you want to shower together today? Right now, maybe?” He nips at Tony’s ear. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

The shiver turns to goosebumps and the lust turns to dread. All Tony can feel is the weight of Steve’s hand on the back of his neck, pressing down on him. Steve is a super soldier. If he decided he wanted to hurt Tony, Tony couldn’t stop him and Tony would be bleeding, bleeding all over the floor, maybe a broken nose, maybe--

 

_ “You’re so beautiful when you bleed, baby.” _

 

So Tony has to accept his punishment.

“Sure,” Tony croaks. 

He lets Steve lead him to the bathroom. Steve turns on the water and reaches for Tony’s clothes as the steam begins to heat the space. Tony goes to strip Steve but everything is so much harder to hide as Steve takes his shirt, starts unbuckling his pants, and Tony wants to scratch at his hips, dig in his nails, but Steve will see and then surely the punishment will be worse.

Steve could leave him alone in here, force him into a bath instead of a shower, make the water so cold that Tony can’t feel his limbs.

 

_ “Please, please, sir, I can’t, I can’t. In Afghanistan, they, they would--” _

_ “Get in, baby.” _

_ Tony already naked, already shivering, and still he pleads, “Please, I’ll do anything else. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll make it up to you, please--” _

_ Tony cuts off as a hand perches on the back of his neck. His broken nose is still healing from when his lover slammed his head into the counter because Tony hadn’t kissed him before that board meeting. _

_ His lover’s voice hardens. “Get in, baby.” The hand presses and Tony sinks down with it. _

_ The water comes up to his biceps, frigid, freezing, and Tony’s throat is closing up like his body is trying to cry but can’t, can’t move. Tony’s shaking, making ripples in the water, but he did it. He’s in the water. _

_ He looks up to his lover for approval, to ask if he can please come out now. _

_ His lover pushes him under. _

_ Tony thrashes, water sliding down his throat, and he’s back in Afghanistan, drowning on dry land as terrorists scream into his ears and poke at his broken heart, and he’s going to die here, he’s going to die-- _

_ He breaks the surface of the water and retches over the side of the tub. His lover swears, yanking his hand away. _

_ “Disgusting whore,” he snarls. His narrowed eyes fix on Tony as he dry heaves. “I was only going to make you stay in there for ten minutes. Now you stay there until I get back.” He yanks Tony’s head up by the hair. Tony gasps and desperately tries not to vomit again. “I’ll know if you get out. I’ll know if you disobey me again. Do you have anything to say to me?” _

_ Tony scrambles for what his lover wants. “I, I’m sorry.” _

_ “And?” He’s pushed farther into the water. _

_ “Thank you, thank you, sir,” Tony cries. “I love you, thank you for punishing me.” _

_ His lover leaves. Tony doesn’t move, not until his lover comes back three hours later. _

 

Tony follows Steve in the shower. The water is hot where it pounds against his skin, just on the tolerable side of scalding. When Steve kisses him, water runs between their lips. Tony’s eyes flutter closed in the steam.

“Mm, love you,” Steve grins, kissing his way down Tony’s neck. Tony moans as Steve’s fingers trace lower, past the dip of his hip bones, lower.

“Love you too,” Tony returns between breaths.

Steve pushes him up against the wall. It’s cold on Tony’s back and his nails dig into Steve’s shoulder blades. Tony tries to pass it off as lust as he throws his head back against the tile. He bites off a groan as Steve twists his wrist and pleasure shoots through him. Steve grabs both of them in his hand. Tony finishes quickly after that and Steve follows close behind.

“Okay,” Steve pants as they come off the high. “Should we actually get clean now?”

Tony nods because he likes to agree, he should agree. The water stays warm as Steve lathers soap in his hands. Tony mimics him. 

The warmth is almost heady. The steam makes his lungs feel heavy.

Tony actually starts to relax as Steve runs shampoo through his hair, carding gently through the tangles. It’s easy to almost forget he’s being punished. It was never like this before, before it was--

 

_ \--blowjobs in the shower. At the least the water was warm, his lover wasn’t the one being punished, but liquid keeps sweeping through the corners of Tony’s mouth and he can’t concentrate on making it pleasurable for his lover and breathing and not drowning all at once. His windpipe burns as water slips in. He wants to choke but he can’t until he’s done, until his lover is done. _

_ Tony swallows and-- _

 

\--snaps back into the present. He’s alone in his room. Steve left a while ago, after they were done and the water was starting to run cold. Tony must have zoned out and he hopes desperately that Steve didn’t notice, that Steve thought he took the punishment well. But Natasha said Tony was bad at the pretending, so what if Steve could tell that the punishment wasn’t enough? Would he come back? Would he make Tony give him a blowjob in the shower, in the tub?

Tony stumbles to his feet and rushes to the bathroom to cough up bile. His chest seizes with the action. When he finally manages a breath in, he leans over the porcelain, fingers white where they clutch the sides of the toilet.

“J,” he rasps. “What did I do wrong?”

“I don’t think you did anything wrong, sir. I do not think Captain Rodgers intended to punish you.”

“JARVIS.” Tony coughs again but nothing comes up. “Shut up.”

 

His downwards spiral, perhaps, begins from there. Tony can’t stop thinking about what he did wrong, what he’s doing wrong, what he will do wrong. He can’t stop thinking about it for days, a week. Just a constant nagging. His nails are running ragged.

He hates being punished, he  _ hates  _ it, and he hates not knowing when or why it’s coming. But how can he ever know? If he knew what his mistakes were, he would stop making them. He would invent a way past his faults, past his stupid quirks, past his personality. But how can he know? He can’t ask his old lovers, no, except-- no, that’s not his right-- but they’re not together anymore, Steve is the one Tony’s making happy now, so surely he can-- does it even apply, she wasn’t his leader, not like--

Tony picks up the phone.

He hears the click of the call being accepted. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Hey, Tony, what can I--”

“Why did we break up?” Tony bites out.

“Why… Why did we break up?” Pepper’s voice crackles over the receiver. “That’s in the past, Tony. And I think you know why anyway. Is that all you wanted to ask me?”

“I-- No, it’s, well, yes, but I just… You were different. From my other relationships. You… Did I not make you happy?”

Pepper sighs down the line. Tony’s hand tightens on his phone. “You did make me happy, Tony. And sometimes you made me angry. But mostly you made me scared. The whole risking your life thing… We’ve talked about this, I know you remember. You weren’t ready to build a life with me, you know that,” she coaxes, tone smoothing out.

“Is it because… I was supposed to be the leader?” Tony has never asked her this before but he knows in some ways he was bad at his role in their relationship, so used to being the team member, so used to being the one who makes the leader happy. He didn’t like punishments. He never felt any desire to administer one to Pepper. Yes, his relationship to Pepper was different but he needs to know how to make Steve happy now, if Pepper could just advise him.

Pepper pauses. “...What?” Tony can almost hear the hint of nails against metal but he can’t be sure.

“Since, since you were my secretary,” Tony clarifies.

Pepper sucks in a breath. “Do you think our relationship failed because  _ you didn’t act like my boss in the bedroom? _ Because you didn’t own me outside of SI?”

“I--” Tony wishes he could see her face. “I, no-- I… Is it?”

“Sometimes I don’t know what to think of you, Tony.” Her voice rises. “One minute you’re this amazing, brilliant genius and the next you’re delusional. It’s like you don’t see yourself, like you don’t see anything right, and I just don’t understand if this is what you really think or-- or this is some twisted joke to you.” Tony can hear her aggravation in the way she starts to break up, words rushing out. “And you know that’s part of the reason we broke up too. You were a completely different person in the bedroom and sometimes I just-- I just feel like I don’t know you at all.” There’s a second of heavy breathing before Pepper says, “I can’t talk to you about this right now. Call me if there’s an emergency.”

She hangs up.

The dial tone rings. And rings. And rings.

Tony stares at his wall, phone clutched in his hand.  _ Delusional? _ Has she always thought that of him? Is it true? But he was only trying to understand. Wouldn’t she want him to understand? Or does she hate him? Why does Tony make everyone he loves hate him? He tried to make him happy, his old lover, Tony tried so hard but he hated him. He told Tony everyday that he never succeeded, never made him happy, always threatening to find someone else, someone better to do Tony’s job.

And the punishments, the punishments were so terrible. It felt like he was always being punished for something. So he tried to make Pepper happy. He tried not to be like him. Like his old lover. But that was wrong, that was a delusion. Tony had never threatened to find someone else if Pepper didn’t please him. He didn’t want it to be like that but that was the way it should have been. Pepper broke up with him, didn’t she? Because he was bad at his job.

Tony would never leave a lover but Pepper made it look so easy. And Tony never did follow through, never found someone else. So why wouldn’t she leave? Why would anyone stay? Why would anyone choose to be this, this slave to another person, if they weren’t protecting the people most important to them? Why can’t Tony leave too? Why has Tony never been able to leave? 

“-ir! Sir!” JARVIS’s voice breaks through his reverie. Tony blinks, twitching. “Mr. Rodgers is on his way. He is 30 seconds away from the bedroom.”

Tony lurches to his feet and fumbles the phone back into the receiver. He can hear the footsteps coming, god, how long has JARVIS been trying to warn him? Wild-eyed, he looks at himself in the mirror. His chest is moving too quickly. His hair is a mess. He scrubs some fingers through it. When did he get those scratches on his forearm? They’re still bleeding a little, fuck, he must have done it while he was on the phone but there aren’t any band aids around, and his eyes look a little red, he should-

Steve walks in.

Tony watches his expression smooth out in the mirror. He turns. “Hey, babe,” he grins.

“Is it babe now?” Steve paces over to him. “This is your day-in, right? So you have time?” As Steve comes closer, he cups his hand on the side of Tony’s face and brushes his thumb under Tony’s eye. His mouth twists. “You look tired.”

“You know I’m always tired. Genius never sleeps.” Tony takes the opportunity to lean into Steve. He is tired. Exhausted. Maybe miserable. It doesn’t really matter.

“Let’s sleep then,” Steve says. Relief runs through Tony.

Then Steve presses a kiss on Tony’s throat.

Tony thought they agreed on sleeping and he’s tired, so tired. His voice betrays him. “No, wait, I don’t-” He shudders as he cuts himself off. He can’t stop thinking about Pepper -- why would she say that, why would she say that about him -- even as he tugs Steve onto the bed with him.

Because Steve changed his mind and there won’t be any sleep for Tony and Pepper thinks he’s a completely different person in the bedroom. And now Tony can’t call her unless it’s an emergency. So he can’t call her. She doesn’t want him to call her.

Tony reaches for Steve’s pants. Steve doesn’t stop him, only tugs at Tony’s own belt, muttering, “You can’t sleep in these either.”

Tony lets Steve pull down his jeans, cheeks warming. Tony’s fingers rest at the hem of his shirt. Does Steve want him to strip? Why does Steve keep saying they’re going to sleep when they’re not going to?

What makes something an emergency? Can he ever call Pepper again? He just wanted some answers. He was just trying to be better. Maybe Tony can’t be better. Maybe he’ll always be bad.

_ It’s like you don’t see yourself. _

“Tony?” Steve leans closer. Tony freezes, hands still tangled in his clothes, his shirt still resting on his body. “Are you crying?”

Tony realizes that heat on his cheeks wasn’t from embarrassment. It’s from warm tears dripping down his face.

Pepper hates him. He couldn’t do his job, he can’t do his job. He can’t be better for Steve. He can’t be better for his lover.

He tries to apologize and chokes out a cry instead. He clutches a hand over his mouth but he can’t stop the sobs now, pouring out of him. He curls over on himself, desperately trying to stop but the tears are making his hand slick and he can still hear his own muffled whimpers, his pathetic whines.

Steve’s hands are on his shoulders and Tony practically falls to his feet.

“Please,” Tony begs. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to, trying to stop you. Don’t go to Clint. Please don’t go to Clint.”

“What?” Steve’s voice snaps through the air. “Tony, what are you talking about?”

Tony remembers he’s supposed to pretend. He’s supposed to love this. He’s supposed to be happy. He’s never, never supposed to complain about his job because it’s his and no one else’s. But he knows he won’t be able to stop crying and he just, he just doesn’t want Steve to take it out on Clint again.

“I can still please you, I promise,” Tony rasps. “You don’t need to go to Clint. Just, just give me a few minutes, please. Then I can, I can…”

“Go to Clint?” Steve’s grip on him tightens or maybe Tony’s imagining it. “What do you think… Why would I go to Clint?”

“To show me you don’t need me. You can get someone else to do my job,” Tony chokes out. His hands start curling on the hem of Steve’s pants. Tony tries not to wince when Steve holds his hands down.

“Tony, I’m not going to break up with you.” Tony can hear the way Steve grits his teeth. “Is that what you think? That I’m going to leave you just like that?”

Tony shakes his head, more hot tears burning in his eyes. “No,” he whispers. “No, I don’t think you going to leave me.”

“Then why would you--”

“To punish me,” Tony agrees with what Steve is about to say. “You would do it to punish me. But I’ll be good. You don’t have to hurt Clint.”

Air hisses between Steve’s teeth and Tony cringes. “Hurt… Clint?” When Tony looks up, Steve’s eyes are closed. “If… If I was to…” Steve swallows, forces out, “go to Clint, what would the punishment be? Would it be that I’m cheating on you?”

“You can’t cheat on me,” Tony murmurs. His cheek hurts where his teeth dig into it.

“So the punishment would be…” Steve still hasn’t opened his eyes. “So the punishment would be that I hurt Clint. Because I’m angry at you. Because you can’t have sex right now.”

Tony doesn’t know why Steve has chosen this night of all nights to be so cruel and he can’t help but plead, voice cracking, “Why are you making me say this?”

Steve’s eyes crack open, slivers of blue, but he doesn’t look at Tony. He only stares at the ceiling. “Tony,” he breathes. “Tell me the truth. The real truth. What do you think our relationship is?”

Tony flinches. “You’re trying to trick me.” He always has to pretend, that was one of his lover’s first rules.  _ I want you, I need you, I love you,  _ make it convincing while he cries, make it convincing when it hurts.

“I’m not trying to trick you, Tony!” Steve’s gaze flickers down to Tony as his voice rises, his anger coming out for the first time. Tony waits for the hit, the blow, the punch to the gut. But Steve’s the only one who suddenly looks like the air’s been knocked right out of him as he asks, quieter, “What do you think our relationship is?”

Tony opens his mouth but there’s no air in the room. No air to carry his words, yet still, somehow, he speaks. “You’re our leader. The team leader,” Tony insists. “And you, you asked me. You asked me first.”

Steve’s lip twists. “So you felt like you couldn’t say no.”

Everything tastes like salt. “Why did you choose me if you wanted me to say no?” The words come out watery. Tony withdraws his hands from Steve’s waistband but stays where he is, huddled at Steve’s feet from when he slid off the bed.

“I  _ chose _ you,” Steve spits out. “Because I liked you.”

“No.” A bitterness rises in Tony as he shakes his head. “No, that’s not true. Then why did he chose me too? Why, why is it always me?”

Steve stills. “Who chose you?” he breathes.

“Stop,” Tony begs.

Steve’s jaw tightens. “Tell me who did this to you.” Tony doesn’t reply. “Tell me.” Steve crouches down next to Tony. “Tony, tell me what happened or.. or I’ll go to Clint.”

Tony tastes blood in his mouth where his teeth split his cheek. He should have known, should have known Steve wasn’t different and Tony got complacent. He thought he loved Steve too but how could he, how could anyone feel love in a relationship?

Steve starts rising to his feet.

“Obie,” Tony sobs. “Stop, please, just… Obie taught me everything. He was, he was my first. My first everything. Before MIT, he was teaching me how to be good. I couldn’t inherit the company until I was eighteen and even when I did, he was on the board of directors. And after Afghanistan, he... he still…” 

“Before… How old were you?”

“It started when I was thirteen.”

“When you were… When you were thirteen.” Steve seems to crumple, sliding down the bed to sit near to Tony. “Oh god, this whole time I’ve been… It’s been… I should have realized. You never say no. Did you ever want to have sex? Did you ever want any of this?”

“Why would it matter?” Tony asks.

Steve buries his face in his hands. His breaths start to shudder.

“Steve?” Tony’s hand hovers near Steve’s shoulder. “Are you unhappy with me? I-- I want to make it better. Let me make it better?”

“No, no, Tony.” Steve meets his gaze, eyes red and watering. “We’re not doing anything,  _ anything, _ until I understand… Until we understand our relationship. What this is. All of it.”

“If that would make you happy,” Tony agrees easily and Steve looks like he’s been slapped.

“Tony…” Steve breathes, pained and hoarse. His fingers dig into the carpeted floor. He doesn’t make a move to get up from where they’re crouched against the side of the bed. Neither does Tony. “Are you happy with me?”

“I am!” The insistence in his voice is tinged with desperation. “I love being a part of the Avengers. I love this team. I want to contribute to the team. I want this, I swear. I want you.” Tony grabs Steve’s hand. It stays limp in his grasp.

Steve’s voice is flat. Tired. “But are you happy? Are you happy being with me?”

Tony opens his mouth, then pauses.

 

_ “I always knew you were a slut, Tony. Here I am, giving you an important job, the best job a slut like you could hope for, and what do you do to repay me? You humiliate me.”  _

_ Everyone else has left the building. Obadiah stayed to finish paperwork. Tony lingered with him, like a dog that heels to its master. They have the darkened room, the floor, most of the building, to themselves. _

_ Obadiah’s grip tightens on Tony’s shirt, dragging him closer. _

_ Tony forces on smirk until his face is stiff enough to hurt. “Don’t I get to show off such a catch?” The slap burns against Tony’s cheek. He smiles through it. “Do it again, baby,” he almost snarls. “I like it.” _

_ His expression only falters when Obadiah takes him by the neck. There’s no pressure yet, just the sure warning. _

_ “Don’t lie to me, boy.” Now it’s Obadiah’s turn to smile. He leans towards Tony, whispering into his ear, “You’re trying to be hard to be a good boy, aren’t you? Pretending for me?” His breath is hot on Tony’s skin and Tony bites his lip, suppressing a whimper. “But we’re alone now. And I like to hear you cry.” _

_ He squeezes and Tony chokes. A couple of reflex tears slip out and Obadiah kisses them off his cheeks. He squeezes a little tighter. _

_ “Don’t lie to me again.” _

 

Tony tries to tell the truth. “I’m happy to contribute to the team. I’m happy when I make you happy.”

Steve’s hand twitches. “That’s not what I’m asking Tony. You would still be an Avenger whether we were dating or not. So do you want this? Or are you just saying it because you think I’ll kick you off the team?”

“I don’t think you’ll kick me off.” The words come definitively. Steve looks surprised.

“Why do you think that?” he asks.

“I’m too valuable an asset.” Steve squeezes Tony’s hand at his words.

“You’re too valuable an  _ team member, _ ” he corrects. “You’ve earned your spot. Not by dating me either but by saving New York and destroying old weapons and God knows what else. So you know that I can’t kick you off the team.” Tony nods. “So why say yes? What could I do to you if you said no?”

Tony sighs, pulling away again. “It’s just my job, Steve. Part of the job description. An unhappy team leader makes an unhappy team. So it has to be someone’s job.”

“It has to be someone’s job? Someone’s job to keep me happy?” Steve swallows. “Someone like Clint?”

Tony’s eyes track wildly back to Steve’s face. “Stop it. You said you wouldn’t go to him. I’m telling the truth.”

“I know, I know,” Steve placates. “I’m not going to him. I’m not going to anyone. Tony, just--” A couple more tears slide down Steve’s face.  “You don’t have to protect the team, not from me. I love you. I love you for who you are, the way you act before your coffee in the morning and how brave you are and you’re fucking brilliant. And if you broke up with me tomorrow, I would be sad but I would move on. I wouldn’t take it out on you or anyone else. Whatever Obadiah taught you was wrong. You deserve happiness just as much as anyone else. Just as much as me. Just as much as Clint. No one wants you to sacrifice yourself for the team. I don’t want that for you. Do you understand?”

“I think…” Tony’s gaze flickers inwards, like it does when he’s addressing a particularly hard problem. “I think that you believe that,” he settles on. “I think that’s true for you. I just don’t think it’s true for the rest of the world.”

“How can you say that? You think that everyone is coerced? That whatever you and Obadiah had, that’s how it is for everyone?” Steve starts to become agitated, fidgeting, calf muscles tightening.

Tony rushes out his words, trying to end the conversation. “But you’re supposed to pretend. That’s one of the rules.” Tony’s voice drops. “And someone would have stopped him if it wasn’t normal, right? Because they knew. Because, because a lot of people knew.”

“They knew? Who knew?” Steve strangles out.

“He just…” Tony hunches in on himself. “He used to show me off at board meeting or whatever.”

“God,” Steve breathes, head banging back against the bed. “Tony, he was a sick man. He abused you. Relationships are about mutual respect. Love. They’re between equals. They’re fully consensual. Tony, I…” Steve covers his eyes, face screwing up, warning of another round of tears. “I don’t think we can keep doing this. We’re in too deep. And I… I can’t be with you knowing that I’ve been hurting you this whole time.”

“You never--”

“No.” Steve holds up a hand. “No. I’m sorry, Tony. I’m so sorry. I can’t.”

“If that’s what you want,” Tony hesitantly agrees. He pretends not to see the fresh tears tracking down Steve’s face as they sit in silence.

“I’m going to go,” Steve finally says. He sways when he gets to his feet, almost drunkenly. “I-- I’m not going to do anything if you don’t listen, okay? But I want-- I would like it if you stayed here for a bit. Just, just don’t go anywhere. Please.”

He doesn’t wait for Tony’s response before walking out of the room. Tony hears the ding of the elevator leaving moments later.

He wonders how long he’s supposed to wait. Did Steve mean here as in the penthouse? Did he mean stay here on the floor?

But Steve said they were breaking up. That has to be what he meant, right? If they can’t keep doing this? So Tony shouldn’t have to obey him anymore. Maybe, maybe he’ll just stay in this room, not curled up on the floor but still in the bedroom. Then he could say he misunderstood.

Tony begins to lever himself off the ground. He freezes as he hears footsteps, coming closer. He drops back down. (Better not to risk it.)

But when his gaze flicks up, it’s Clint, not Steve, who walks through the door.

“Hey, Tony, are you in--” Clint searches the room before his eyes land on Tony. “Oh. What are you doing on the floor?”

“Dropped something.” Tony makes an act of patting the carpet and looking under the bed. “Not sure where it went. Oh well.” He gets to his feet, gritting his teeth against the cramps in his legs.

“So…” Clint stays near the the doorframe, like he’s waiting for an invitation. Tony doesn’t give him one. Clint barrels on, “Well, okay, Steve told me you guys broke up. He sent me to check on you.”

“Consider me checked on. You can go now.”

So they did break up. Tony’s not sure how he feels about that. Does this mean he’s free from his responsibilities, his job? But who will make sure Steve stays happy? Who will have to take Tony’s place?

Tony stares at Clint. Clint, who Steve deliberately sent up to check on Tony so Tony would know that Clint was safe. A reassurance that he meant what he said. 

“I kind of think I should stay because--” Clint starts.

“Yes, stay,” Tony interrupts. He waves a dismissive hand but his eyes stay locked on Clint. “I don’t really care, of course. But since you’re here, might as well stay.”

Clint blinks just once in surprise before nodding. “Good. Want me to make you dinner?”

“Sure, that would be great.” Tony trails behind Clint as they make their way to the kitchen. Tony lets himself not think while Clint gets together the ingredients for some bean soup and starts preparing the meal.

Tony couldn’t say how much time passed until Clint placed a bowl in front of him, sitting on the other side of the table with his own. Tony stirs the soup but doesn’t make a move to try it.

“So, Tony.” Spoons clink against bowls. “Want to talk about it?” Clint asks.

Tony doesn’t look up. “What did Steve tell you?”

“Only that you broke up. I’m a clean slate. Now’s your chance to shit talk Steve all you want. Let it out and--”

“We broke up because of you,” Tony interrupts.

Clint grimaces, looking down at his soup. “Sorry, man. Steve probably should have sent someone else to check on you but I’m the one here now so we’re both gonna have to deal.”

“That’s… That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean that I don’t want you here,” Tony manages. “Can I ask you something?”

“Course.” Clint’s eyes flick up to Tony’s face.

“You remember that night when you got drunk? Were you telling me the truth? Nothing happened with Steve when he put you to bed?”

“Oh, Tony,” Clint sighs, sounding almost… disappointed. “You’re not still on about that, are you? Please tell me that’s not the reason you broke up.”

Tony leans forward. “Just tell me the truth.”

Clint meets his gaze. “Nothing happened. That’s it.”

Tony sharply nods once and slumps back into his seat. They eat in silence for a minute before Tony breathes out, “So he never hurt you?”

Clint jerks and soup spills. “Shit, let me--” Clint leaps from his seat and rushes to the kitchen, coming back with a paper towel. 

“Okay.” Clint exhales as he sits back down. “Okay,” he repeats. His voice is soft but unwavering as he says, “I think you need to tell me exactly why you guys broke up.”

“Why we broke up?” Tony’s brow furrows. He feels a little hollow on the inside, a little scrapped out behind the ribs and maybe the heart. He’s not short of breath but there’s still a hint of lightheadedness. “I guess we just weren’t on the same page.”

“Not on the same page about what?”

Tony squeezes his eyes shut, trying to dispel the feeling slipping over him. A feeling like shame. He forces out, “Everything, I think.”

Clint’s face is open, calm. “Why don’t we start at the beginning?” he suggests. It almost sounds like an order. Somehow, that’s what jolts Tony into speaking.

“You know how I was with Obadiah Stane? Before… before a lot of thing?”

“I… did not know that.” Clint’s finger twitches.

Tony glances up. “It wasn’t in my SHIELD report?”

“No.”

Tony looks away again. “Well, I was. Steve didn’t really like that.”

“And why didn’t he like that?”

Tony barks out a laugh. “What are you, my therapist?”

“Come on, Tony. Stop it. You know why I’m asking,” Clint says. “Are you going to tell me Steve didn’t like it because he’s jealous? I don’t think I’m going to like it either and we both know I’m not jealous.”

Tony means to snark back another reply but it looks like Clint’s hands are curling into fists. Instead, he answers, “He didn’t like how young I was. And maybe what our relationship was like in general.” Tony’s not sure what to do with his body. His feet tap on the floor. His hands fold and unfold in his lap. “Obie taught me a lot of things. About how to be in a relationship. I thought dating Steve would be the same because he’s the team leader too. But… Well, obviously I was wrong.”

“So what was your relationship with Obadiah like?” Clint asks.

Tony swallows. His throat feels dry. “You sure you want to hear this? Not exactly the most exciting of my sexcapades,” he jokes, even though it’s not funny.

Clint doesn’t laugh.

“Okay, right then,” Tony croaks. “So when I was thirteen… That’s when it started, right? Howard-- I don’t think he knew-- but he always told me to respect Obie. Obadiah ran a lot of Stark Industries under the table while Howard was looking for Steve. Obie, he offered to teach me the ropes and whatever. And then he… well, he laid it out for me. As a Stark, I had to learn my role at SI. It’s not like I could do much else. No one took me seriously because I was young. It was the only job I could do. It was the job I was meant for.” Tony pauses. His next words seem to curdle in his throat.

“And what was your job?” Clint presses.

Tony inhales sharply. “I was supposed to keep the leader happy. Keep Obadiah happy. In the beginning, I just brought his coffee or his files or stuff like that. Later, um, later it was more sexual. A lot of... punishments.

“You know I didn't--” He glances up at Clint, eyes begging for approval. “I swear, when I asked if something happened between you and Steve, I really was trying to look out for you. Because Obadiah used to do that, you know? Threaten that if, if I couldn't perform, he would get someone else to do my job.

“I was worried about what would happen when I went to college but Obaiah would still visit me when he… when he needed me, I guess.”

“If you thought Steve was going to hurt you, hurt me, why didn't you come to one of us? We would have protected you, Tony. We would never have turned you away, not for something like this.” Clint is shaking, the tremors even in his hands. Tony has never seen that before.

Could it be rage? Does Clint blame Tony for not coming to them? Of course, and now Clint has had to come take care of Tony when all along Tony should have come to them or kept his mouth shut.

“I--” Tony should know better than to defend himself by now but he does anyway. “I thought you wouldn't want to hear my whining. And that was one of Obie's rules. To pretend, all the time. Pretend that I was happy and that I always wanted whatever he gave me and-- and Steve, he wanted me to follow those rules too.” Tony might be getting short of breath. He doesn't want to think about it. “He, he was always happy when I initiated so how could I know he didn't want me to do that? And you, you didn't want to hear about it, right? Right? Everyone was happy when I was dating Steve and it was better for the team and now somehow it's my fault that I didn't come to you? How was I supposed to know that you--”

“Tony--”

“Sorry,” Tony apologizes, mouth clicking shut.

“Tony, this isn't your fault,” Clint finishes. 

Tony just can't help himself. “That's not what Pepper thinks. She thinks I'm delusional.” Tony’s hand spasms as he says it aloud.

“That's…” Clint starts but trails off.

“That's what?”

Clint sighs. “That's not the word I would have used,” he pieces out.

“That's not the word you would have used? So you think it's true.” Tony doesn't know if he has it in himself to be hurt anymore today. There's only a momentary twinge in his chest as he realizes what Clint is implying.

“I think you've been severely misled by a abusive man,” Clint states. Tony just stares at the table. The soup has surely gone cold by now.

“When Steve…” Tony hesitates and Clint gestures him on. Tony takes a deep breath. “If I had said no when Steve asked me to date him, what would you guys have done? You and the rest of team?”

Clint’s expression crumples. “Nothing. We wouldn’t have done anything. Maybe console Steve but it’s not our business what decisions you make in your personal life. You get me? And it’s definitely not our business what you do with your body.”

“You wouldn’t have been… angry?” Tony pokes at his spoon. The metal grates against the table. “You wouldn’t have thought I was, I dunno, slacking off?”

“It’s not a job, Tony. We didn’t expect that from you and it’s not your fault that it happened this way but please believe me, we didn’t want--”

“What about Steve? He would have been angry though, right?” Tony pulls his hand back to his body, jostling the bowl of soup. He doesn’t look up, even as Clint starts leaning over to clean up the drops. “He would have been angry if I said no, right?” Tony continues. “So, so, I was doing it to protect myself. Even if you guys didn’t, didn’t care--”

“We cared, Tony. We do care--”

“--I was still doing it for a good reason, for self-preservation. And anyway, Obie wanted me to know how to do a good job so even if you didn’t want me to do this, I still did a good job, didn’t I? I kept Steve happy and that made the team work better, didn’t it? But now that Steve broke up with me, he’ll-- it’ll-- You’ll want me to go back, right? To make things better again? But Steve broke up with me so I’m not sure I’ll be able to--”

“How did it end?” Clint interrupts.

Derailed, Tony blinks. “What? My breakup with Steve?”

“No, your first breakup. The one with Stane.”

“He… You know what happened.” Tony’s eyes narrow but Clint is unphased.

“Remind me.”

Tony struggles with the words for a moment, almost gagging on them on the way up. “He tried to kill me. And I killed him first. He was my lover and I killed him.”

“After he tried to kill you! Look, Tony,” Clint reaches over the table and grabs his hand. Tony can still feel Clint’s own hand trembling, barely, “you can see how messed up that is, right? That has to show he’s a bad guy and doesn’t that make you think that maybe he was wrong about other stuff too? That maybe he lied to you about what a relationship should be like?”

“I…” Tony tries to take his hand back but Clint holds tight. “I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? I don’t know.”

“Let me just spell it out for you one more time.” Clint’s grip loosens but Tony suddenly feels frozen. “Steve’s not going to be mad that you guys broke up. He’s not going to take it out on you or me or anyone else. The rest of us aren’t mad either. We just want to help you. We want you to realize that whatever bullshit Stane told you is wrong. No more pretending, got it?”

Tony nods.

“Say it,” Clint insists.

“No more pretending,” Tony promises.

 

It’s an uphill trek from there. There are habits ingrained in Tony that he didn’t even know he had. They come out in subtle ways.

Steve avoids him for a couple of weeks and Tony tries not to let it bother him. It’s painfully obvious when he walks into a room and Steve will stand up and leave. Clint must have spread the word though because no one ever comments on it.

It’s running tensions through the team. They haven’t had the group training they usually do. They don’t gather for team dinners. And this, Tony knows, is exactly what happens when he doesn’t do his job.

He remembers running off once when his wrists were stripped raw and his throat was blotched purple and he couldn’t see where he was bleeding from. He spent three days holed up at Rhodey’s house on a ratty couch in the basement. For one stupid ephemeral moment, he thought he could stay here: finish up his degree, get a job anywhere but Stark Industries, pay back his rent to Rhodey’s family. There would be no one telling him when to be home or who to talk to or what to wear or when to not wear anything.

He shouldn’t have listened to his voicemails. He didn’t listen to the ones from Obie. The ones from his dad he thought would be safe and maybe they were until his father started ordering him to come home because some newspaper had snapped a picture of him in a dark alley doing god knows what and didn’t Tony realize that his actions affected the company with Obadiah worried sick and stock dropping, why didn’t he just come home and stop this game before it got any worse?

And here he was again. No bruises, no blood, this time. Just his own cowardice.

He pours himself into his work as if that usefulness will make up for the other ways he can’t perform. He finishes a new stealth suit for Natasha, a better comm link for JARVIS, altered arrows for Clint, a modified uniform for Steve and is about to start another project when Clint’s hand appears around his wrist. Tony glances up at him. The clock on the wall behind Clint is meaningless. Tony hasn’t looked at it in… well, he doesn’t know how long.

“You need to take a break.” Clint tugs a bit and Tony almost topples out of his chair. His body feels like it’s about to give out. Tony pushes away the exhaustion.

“No, it’s, it’s fine.” Tony shakes his head. A woozy feeling rushes through him. “I made these. They’re good, right?”

Clint looks pained. “I’m sure they’re great. Maybe we can try them out after you get some sleep, okay?”

“No, no, I should work.” Tony stumbles over the words. “Else how am I supposed to still be useful since I’m not, I’m not doing my job anymore?”

“Let me take you back to your bedroom, Tony. I don’t want to argue with--”

Tony resists as Clint starts to pull him to his feet. “You don’t get to take me to the bedroom. You’re not the team leader.” Part of Tony feels like he should be angry but he just feels so tired. And slow. Almost drunk and maybe he should be worried that he can’t remember if he actually did have any alcohol or not. “Unless you think that would help the team. Then you should just do it, do whatever you want. Put me down. No, sorry, I meant, I meant take me down. Or put me down, I guess. If that’s what you wanted.”

“Jesus, no, Tony, I’m not going to--”

“Then you have to let me date Steve again!” Tony lurches to his feet and Clint takes a step back. “That’s the only way things will get better. You have to let me fix this. Please, Clint, this is worse than before. Before was fine. Wasn’t before fine? Why can’t we just-- Why won’t you just let me--” 

Tony collapses and Clint’s there again to catch him. He half helps, half drags Tony to his bed. The last thing Tony remembers is Clint turning the lights off and ordering, “Go to bed, Tony. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

 

Clint’s making breakfast when Tony comes into the kitchen. Clint nods in greeting and starts spooning batter into a frying pan for pancakes. Tony leans over the kitchen island, the granite pressing cold into his hip.

His fingers tap on the counter. It’s the same motion he uses when he tests the glass plate of his arc reactor.

“Sorry,” he finally says. There’s only the sizzle of the batter. Clint doesn’t turn around, not yet, and Tony is inordinately grateful. “I know… I know you’re trying to help me. I just feel useless like this. I know you don’t want me to feel guilty or, or that I shouldn’t feel guilty or whatever. But…”

Clint hums. Their eyes meet for a brief second as Clint hands him one of the fresh pancakes before turning around again.

“I guess I’m trying to say thank you,” Tony continues. His hands work at the pancake, ripping it into bite size pieces. “I feel… safer. Safe. I miss the team dinners though. Do you think we could have those again? People know, right? You told them? So it could be a nice thing, a healthy thing, to have more team dinners?”

“I think that’s a good idea, Tony.” Clint guides him to the table, a plate of pancakes and syrup in hand. Tony grabs some napkins for both of them before they sit across from each other.

“And… will Steve be there?” Tony asks.

“Not if you don’t want him to be.”

Tony hesitates and Clint notices. Tony can feel his attention honing in. “I want him to be there,” Tony settles on. “I think I miss him. Is that… Should I not miss him? I shouldn’t miss him, right?”

And the sad thing is he does miss Steve. He misses Steve bringing him coffee and how Steve liked to surprise him and the way Steve kissed his knuckles. It wasn’t all bad. It wasn’t even just better than what he had with Obadiah because apparently that sets the bar too low. Some parts were good. Some parts made him genuinely happy.

“You can miss him. That’s normal. I just worry about you,” Clint adds.

“I know. But you can keep an eye on me during dinner. You’ll tell me if I… You’ll be there too, right?”

“Always.” Clint holds up his mug of coffee and Tony clinks his against it.

 

Dinner goes fine. Tony and Steve talk around each other for the most part, except when they need something passed to them. Clint only nudges Tony with his foot once, when Tony is about get another glass of water as Steve finishes his. 

When Tony laughs a joke Bruce makes, Steve smiles. It’s enough, for now.

 

On weekdays, Clint gives Tony crash courses on anything he thinks is necessary. The topics extend from the dictionary definition of consent to his responsibilities as an Avenger. Sometimes it feels like Tony’s back in high school and other times, it’s more like a therapy session. Once, when Tony starts worrying about wasting Clint’s time, Clint tells Tony about how Coulson helped him break bad habits from his time in the circus and on the run. This is him paying it forward. Tony can accept that.

Tony learns a lot. It’s when Steve finally stops avoiding him that he gets to apply it.

 

He’s having lunch with Bruce, discussing the latest research he’s been working on, when Steve comes in for a bagel. He swallows the last bit of his food and starts searching for an excuse to end the conversation so he can give Steve all his attention.

“Right, so…” Tony trails off, eyes tracking Steve across the kitchen. 

Bruce must notice but he doesn’t nudge Tony like Clint would, doesn’t raise an eyebrow. He just waits for Tony to continue, expectant that he will actually continue. Tony could wrap up his thoughts. Tony could derail their conversation. But does he want to?

That’s what makes the difference. That’s what Clint said. If Tony doesn’t want to do it, he doesn’t have to. His desires aren’t tied to Steve’s, they’re his own, solely his own.

“Hey, Steve,” Tony greets. Steve looks up at him, pausing before nodding.

“Tony.”

Tony smiles and then turns back to Bruce. “So my opinions on quantum theory--” he starts.

 

Sometimes things still hurt, they probably always will, but some days don’t hurt quite as much. Like the day Clint gives him a shoddy diploma commemorating his graduation from the University of Clint with BA in relationship studies. (Tony never thought he’d get a BA considering all the Bachelor of Sciences he already has, but hey, it’s the thought that counts.)

Or the day Steve asked him out again, with the blessing (and parental warning) of the team behind him. Or the day Tony said no and didn’t feel guilty about it.

Or maybe best of all, the day Tony asked out Steve and Steve said yes.

Now even when the nightmares rage and old ghosts pound on his door, Tony knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Tony was raped by Obadiah when he was young and it affects his relationship with Steve, making all of the times he gives consent dubious


End file.
